Wendy and no Peter Pan

For the remaining children, including John and Michael, Hook had planned one last, theatrical cruelty. A week after Wendy's death, when the children's grief had faded into an apathetic silence, he had them assembled on deck. The deck was scrubbed spotless, a clean stage for the coming bloodbath.

"Today," he announced with a sanctimonious voice, "we will play a game. A final game in honour of your old friend Peter Pan and your treacherous mother Wendy. We will play 'Learning to Fly'." Some of the pirates grinned, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. Smee brought out the plank, while others readied knives, ropes, and heavy iron chains.

Hook had the children line up. He walked to the first child, one of the twin girls. "Your happy thought?" he asked gently. The girl trembled and wept silently. "None? Then I suppose we'll have to help you find one." He gave a signal. Four pirates grabbed the girl and dragged her to the centre of the deck. They tore the clothes from her body and held her down on the planks. "She's yours," Hook said to his crew. Amid cheers, the men fell upon her, one after another. Hook watched with a bored smile, as if observing a mediocre theatrical performance.

When they were finished, the girl was barely conscious. Hook stepped forward, drew a thin knife, and completed the work, first cutting off her nipples with the cold precision of a surgeon, and then mutilating her lower body by removing her labia and clitoris, before her bleeding form was weighted with chains and thrown overboard.

Next came a boy. Tootles. "Your happy thought?" Hook repeated the mocking question. Tootles spat at his feet. A mistake. Hook laughed softly. "A little man. Well, if you can no longer be a man, I suppose you won't need this." He gave another signal. The pirates held Tootles down, pulled off his trousers, and Hook himself performed a crude castration with a single, practiced motion. Tootles' screams echoed across the deck as he, writhing in his own blood, was also weighted with chains and pushed from the plank.

One by one, the children were brought forward. The girls suffered the fate of the twin sister, the boys that of Tootles. The deck of the Jolly Roger transformed into a slaughterhouse.

Michael was forced to watch everything until it was his turn, second to last. He broke down, begged for his life, and wet himself. "Fly, little Darling, fly!" Hook hissed in his ear, before Smee pushed his mutilated body overboard without hesitation.

Finally, only John was left. He stood alone before Hook on the blood-soaked deck, trembling, but with a spark of indomitable hatred in his eyes.

"The big brother. The responsible one," Hook said quietly. "You failed them all. Your sister. Your brother. Your friends. But I am generous. You have a choice." He pointed to the plank. "You can follow them. Or... you will become my new scribe, my personal servant. You will record for me the story of your failure, for all eternity."

John looked at the dark waves, then back at the monster who had destroyed his family. He did the only thing he had left. He spat in Hook's face.

Hook's smile froze. For a moment, pure rage flashed in his eyes. Then, in an ice-cold voice, he commanded: "Weight him doubly."

As John stood at the end of the plank, he did not look down. He looked to the sky, as if searching for a bird that no longer existed. Then, without a sound, he stepped into the void.

Captain Hook

And Hook? He had won. Peter Pan was dead. Tinkerbell was a faded memory. Wendy was annihilated. The children were obliterated. He had conquered Neverland and transformed it into his personal kingdom of fear.

But his victory was hollow.

He often sat alone in his cabin, the red velvet dress sometimes draped over a chair. He had gotten what he wanted—total submission, absolute triumph. But the satisfaction was fleeting. He had broken Wendy's body, but he had never possessed her spirit. Her final, silent refusal to give him the satisfaction of a scream haunted him in his dreams. He had destroyed the innocence he had coveted, and now there was nothing left but ashes.

The Jolly Roger sailed on through the seas of Neverland, a feared ship under the command of an unchallenged tyrant. But on board, there was no more joy, no laughter, no songs. Only the silent, suffocating routine of fear and obedience. Hook was the king of a dead realm, the ruler of broken souls. He had conquered Neverland, only to find that without the magic he had destroyed, it was nothing more than a lonely prison of water and wind. And he was its sole, eternal prisoner.